Everything Shatters
by MidnightResWri
Summary: Everything Shatters. Glass Shatters. Trust Shatters. Heroes Shatter. PP never happened. AU. Full summary inside. Rated for language and future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Everything Shatters. Glass shatters. Trust shatters. Heroes shatter.

Danny Fenton has been missing since his seventeenth birthday. Ever since he escaped his own personal hell, Danny has been living under the name Michael Nielson, working at a restaurant owned by a couple who don't ask him questions about his past. He's made a new life. He thought he had left his past behind him when he disappeared. But when he sees a familiar face from Amity, his new life is threatened when the floodgates are opened. AU PP never happened.

Rated M for Language, Gore, Violence

**A/N:** I know there are a number of fics out there that have Danny rejected by his parents. But the ones I've seen all have Danny and Vlad bonding or something to do with the two of them. This is not one of those fics. Warning: Here there be OCs.

**Disclaimer:** Danny Phantom is the property of those who own the rights of distribution, various copyrights, and what not. Me? I'm not one of them.

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><p><strong>Everything Shatters<strong>

A Fanfic by MidnightResWri

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><p><span>Chapter One<span>

_Danny Fenton shifted his weight on his end of the couch. He didn't meet the eyes of his parents. He couldn't meet their eyes. Not with knowing what he would be telling them. And willingly. For all they knew, he could be coming out of the closet. He ran a nervous hand through his black hair. It might have been better had that been the case. He fought back the urge to go invisible._

_It's been three years since he started lying to them. Three years since they started using him for target practice. Three years of thinned trust that would completely break after this little talk._

_Danny took a breath. He could do this. They were his parents. They accepted him at least once before. They'd do it again._

_Jack looked impatient, itching to get back to whatever invention the pair were working on. Danny figured it was something that would be used to hurt his ghost-half again. The boy swallowed back that new ball of anxiety. "Um," he started weakly. "I bet you're wondering why I want to talk to you?"_

"_Sweetie," his mother, Maddie, leaned over and rested a hand on his. "You don't have to be so nervous."_

_Danny gave her a small smile and nodded. His throat felt dry when he opened his mouth again. "Promise you'll still love me?"_

"_You know we love you, son," his father reassured him. "That won't change anytime soon."_

_The hybrid took a deep breath. "I've been keeping this a secret from you for three years," he began. Another breath. It was difficult to say the rehearsed lines in front of their intended audience. "You can try to ground me, but you can't stop me from doing what I do."_

_The parents looked at each other and then at their son. "What are you talking about Danny?" asked Maddie, a worried frown set on her face._

"_There was an accident three years ago in the lab," began Danny slowly. He winced when his mother threw a hand over her mouth. She was about to ask a question when he interrupted her thoughts. "With the ghost portal."_

_Suspicion clouded the eyes of his usually jovial father. But the big man in orange didn't say anything, waiting for his son to finish. The boy shifted in his seat, fumbling with his hands. He knew he had to continue. It was imperative that they knew. "After you guys tried to get it to work, and it failed…I decided to look inside. I must have pressed a button, or something. The portal turned on w-while I was s-still inside it."_

_His mother gasped in horror. "Why didn't you tell us before?" She demanded. "You could have been killed!"_

_Danny rubbed the back of his neck now, unsure of how to continue. He had practiced this so many times. "I sort of was." He brought out the white rings and changed into the object of their hatred. He morphed into Danny Phantom. "I figured it was time for you to know," his voice took on an eerie echo. He lowered his head so he couldn't see their disappointment. But his glowing green eyes betrayed him and glanced through the fallen bangs of white hair._

_Both of the ghost hunters brought out their weapons in alarm, training them on the ghost child. "Get out of our son, you ectoplasmic freak!"_

_The boy winced at his father calling him a freak. His head shot up and he pleaded, "I'm not _in_ your son. I _am_ your son."_

_His mother was the first to fire an ecto-gun. The blast hit his chest and he was thrown into the far wall. He gasped from the pain and pulled himself up. "Mom," he began. He never got to finish his thought as his body erupted in pain. He knew he screamed._

_The woman shot another blast into his shoulder. "Don't you dare call me that," she snarled. "Get out of my son, ghost boy, or we'll _force _you out."_

_Danny heard more shots fired, but he didn't remember if they hit their mark or not. He was still reeling from the first two blasts. He lost consciousness soon after he heard the gun fire its last round and watching his parents stalk over to glare over his body._

He opened his light blue eyes, panting at the dream. The memory, he corrected. It had been something he wanted to forget.

He sat up on his bed, running a hand through short black hair that no longer fell in his eyes. His body had a thin sheen of sweat coating it. His loose shirt clung to his chest and he peeled it off. The cool night air sent goose bumps down down his arms, but he welcomed it. His heart was beating fast enough to keep his body warm enough. He sighed as he pushed the heel of his palm into his eye, rubbing away the last bit of sleep. He wouldn't be getting much more sleep after that dream. His body still felt the echo of those old injuries.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed his cell phone to see the time: 5:02 am. _Not _too_ bad_, he thought.

One year. That's how long it had been since he escaped that hell. One year since he through away the identity of Danny Fenton. One year since he came to Seattle looking like a wreck with nowhere to go.

One year as Micheal Nielson, "distant relative" of Robert and Lilly Sell, owners of _The Looking Glass_ restaurant where he worked and lived above. He came to enjoy his new life after a few months. He had just gotten used to the idea that he didn't have to look over his shoulder every ten seconds. He had grown into his new identity.

He should have expected those dreams, though. Such an important date wouldn't get unnoticed by his subconscious, to be sure. He would have to make sure to go to the library later to find a way to get rid of those dreams once and for all. They always brought out the worst in him.

Michael swung his legs over the edge of his bed, a growl in his throat. He didn't want to think about that right now. It was hard enough when it happened and it hadn't gotten easier to think about yet. He leaned over, his arms draped over his knees as he worked through blocking off the memories. He refused to acknowledge it happened to him. It wasn't healthy, but he needed to do it to function. He couldn't let a few bad months of his life ruin the rest of it.

He brought out his white rings and changed into his other half. He had been forced to abandon the black and silver jumpsuit immediately after he left. It was too flashy. Too well known. Instead, Michael wore a long sleeved, black button-down shirt with the top three or four buttons undone, white gloves (he found he enjoyed wearing gloves in that form), black jeans, and shoes. He still looked scrawny in that form.

He couldn't hold back the thought that if Vlad saw him now, he'd probably approve of his current appearance. It was a far cry from the hero he pretended to be. No more logo. No more advertisement. Just a quiet existence.

Michael smirked at the darkness around him before he phased through his window. The dark of night wouldn't last much longer, the sun due to rise in another two hours. He rose above the highest building of the area and shot off towards the rising sun. Dissolving his legs into a ghostly tail, the ghost kid increased his speed. He flipped in the air, did a few barrel rolls, and let the exhilaration of the air pushing against his face bring up his mood. He could survive another day. No one knew who he used to be here.

One thing that remained from that time: his love of flying.

After an hour in the air, the sky began to lighten as the sun approached the horizon. Michael took that as his cue to return to his apartment. One hour before his shift started. He ate a small breakfast before showering and changing into his work uniform. A white button down shirt, a black vest, black dress pants and shoes. He tied the apron around his waist and gave himself a look over in the mirror. He looked passable, at least. Lilly would have had a fit if she saw even one hair out of place. He honestly hoped he would have had a better schedule for the day. It _was_ a special day for him. The day he started his new life. But Lilly insisted he work from an hour after open to two before close.

He glanced at the clock. His shift would start soon and he still needed to clock in. Michael left the small one-bedroom apartment, locking the green door behind him. He descended the stairs, opened another green door, and entered the restaurant in its morning setting. The bar beside the door had a few regulars drinking coffee on the stools, reading the paper. Robert wiped at an empty section of the counter, wearing the same uniform as Michael. His brown eyes flicked over at the young man as he walked by the bar. "Morning," the man said, a low tenor of a voice.

Robert was taller than Michael, though that wasn't all uncommon. He wore a thin mustache with his thinning brown hair. His eyes looked sunken into their sockets. Michael guessed the man was in his late fifties.

"Morning, Rob," responded Michael with a wave. He weaved through the mostly empty tables toward the employee's lounge. He would most likely see Ashley stalling to clock in again. When he pushed open the door, he saw that he was right. She sat at the table, sipping her tea as slowly as possible. "Morning, Ashley."

"Hey, Mike," the seventeen year old blond didn't turn to him, continuing to stare at the clock. Michael didn't know why the girl showed up early in the first place. "Saw you had a long day today. Sucks to be you. You getting a dinner?"

"I think so," he responded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why?"

The girl snorted, "I don't know. Maybe I want to know when you're taking it." She raised her mug to her lips and muttered, "Shit, you can be so clueless."

"How about I text you when I decide my break?" He offered. She nodded her consent. Michael went over to the far wall and punched in his id code. "Well, whenever you decide to get to work, I'll be doing my job." She gave him a flippant wave and grunted.

"Fucking kiss-up," his coworker muttered. At which, he smiled, shook his head and left the lounge.

The mornings were always slow for the restaurant. Lilly usually replaced Rob at the counter at noon, and that day was no exception. The short woman had her red hair up in a messy bun and made sure her staff was the best at their jobs. Her face wore laugh lines, the sign of a life well-lived. Michael made sure he lived up to her expectations. He didn't want a repeat of the previous year in any way, shape or form.

Only a few of the tables in his section had been taken up. Ashley, playing hostess up front, was giving him fewer clients to work with than some other waiters. Sometimes, he wonder wondered about that girl. She could insult him up and down and then give him less work whenever their shifts met up. Michael supposed it was a girl thing, really.

"Mike," said Lilly, stopping the young man on his to the kitchen to check on a lunch order, "grab a clean pot on your way back." She pointed at the coffee machine behind her and he nodded. There were a few customers in front of the woman. Some of them he didn't recognize. One was reading a newspaper.

He entered the kitchen, enjoying the sounds of the cooks making the dishes. He used to freeze up whenever he heard anything to do with knives, but he eventually equated that sound with the knowledge that they weren't meant for him. Micheal asked the crew about the order, one shouted back that it would be another five minutes. He grabbed the coffee pot Lilly wanted and made his way back to the dining area. "Here you go, Lil'," he said, not noticing a person at the counter stiffen at the sound of his voice. The woman thanked him quickly and then shooed him away and back to work.

Michael attended to his table before moving on to his next one, taking the order of a couple who had just sat down. He bussed a third table and took the dirty dishes to the kitchen to be washed. The order was ready now. He picked it up, holding the weight of the tray on his forearm. As he went by the bar, he felt a pair of eyes on him, but he quickly shook the feeling off. It was an aftereffect of the dream, he reasoned. Nothing to be paranoid about.

With the food delivered, he turned around to go toward the register. He needed to put in the order for the second table. When he turned around, Michael ran into a patron. He fell back a few steps, rubbing his nose. "S-sorry," he said, "I didn't see you there."

"No," said a familiar, smug sounding voice, "you never did have the best skills in observation, now did you, Daniel?"

Michael's stomach bottomed out. He could feel the eyes of the couple stare at his back. Probably wondering why their server was suddenly being called 'Daniel.' He glanced at the man he wished he had left behind with the rest of them. Vlad's face must have finally locked into that smirk. His dark blue eyes bored into Michael's and the eighteen year old suddenly felt like he was fourteen again. "I'm sorry, but my name is Michael," he said, finally. "You must be mistaken, sir."

He moved to get around Vlad Masters and back to his job. It took about two seconds for Michael to realize Vlad was following him. He sighed and made his way toward Lilly. "Hey, Lilly?" He said, being as polite as possible. "I'm going on my lunch now."

"Oh no you don't, young man," she narrowed her green eyes at him. "You still have a couple tables." She looked behind him, seeing the billionaire standing casually, looking at his nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. Lilly leaned forward over the counter, gesturing for Michael to do the same. "Does this have to do with that guy? Is he bothering you?"

He shook his head, "He's…kind of an old acquaintance." Michael grimaced as he said that. "Will you take care of my tables for a bit? I really need to deal with this."

Lilly took a deep breath and let out an angry sigh. "Just this once," she warned, wagging a finger at him as if he'd done something wrong.

"Thank you." He meant it, too. Michael leaned away and made his way to the employee's lounge, Vlad still trailing behind him. Anger he hadn't felt in so many months resurfaced and he turned around to face the billionaire. In a quiet, stern voice, he said, "Outside. Then we talk."

Vlad raised an eyebrow, amused at the younger hybrid's order. But, he obliged, walking out of the restaurant with the grace of a satisfied cat. Michael entered the lounge and leaned against a wall. His hands felt clammy as he rubbed his face. Vlad was there. He must have found him after continuously searching. But, he'd been careful. He changed his name. Rarely used his powers. Kept a low profile. Michael lowered a shaking hand and stared at the far wall. He had to get rid of the older hybrid. He had to say the right things to make sure he'd never come back around. Jack and Maddie had never been too far behind their old college friend. He realized he was starting to hyperventilate. Michael forced himself to take slower breaths.

After a few minutes, he left the restaurant, taking his supposed lunch. He waved at the pretty blond he planned on having dinner with later. She raised an eyebrow at her coworker as he left. She would probably ask how his lunch was. Ashley usually did during their dinners. Michael planned on giving her an abridged version. A half-truth. Those usually worked better for him than flat-out lies.

Michael was surprised to see Vlad holding a couple of subs in his hands. The billionaire smirked, offering one of them to Michael. He looked at it suspiciously. "What's attached to the sub?" he asked.

"Still paranoid as ever are we?" The man asked. "You are taking your lunch, son. I only want to have a little chat with you, Daniel. What is it you young people say? Catch out?"

Michael took the sandwich. "It's catch up, Vlad," he said, irritably. He took a bite of the food before waving it in the rich man's face and saying, "I know what you're up to." He glared daggers at the man, defiance clear on his face.

Vlad's calm mask never faltered. "I don't know what you're talking about, Daniel."

Michael scowled, "Don't play games with me, Vlad. I'm done with all of that. Don't pretend you just happened upon my workplace. I'm not going back with you. And it's Michael now. Danny died a year ago." The last phrase was a whisper, accompanied by a slight shiver. He knew Vlad would have seen that.

"I'll admit," said the billionaire after a long moment, "that I have been looking for you, little badger. You left as soon as you were able and I should have expected that. I lost your trail somewhere around Cincinnati. I never stopped looking for you. Though, I thought you would have been some street rat, so I had my people looking in shelters. But I didn't think you'd end up here and working as a common waiter. That's the truth."

"Uh huh," Michael took another bite of the sub. "I'm supposed to be believe that?"

"Yes," Vlad sounded offended. "It took me a few days to realize why you'd run, Daniel. Your departure forced me to reevaluate my priorities. My companies needed me and I could no longer play Mayor." He looked at the boy as he ate the lunch provided to him. "In case you're still clueless, I've resigned as Amity Park's Mayor. I'm here on a business trip only, seeing one of the DALV Group's branches. The hotel recommended this little restaurant. Pure coincidence that you worked here, my boy."

Actually hearing the name of that city stirred something in Michael. Most of it was painful. "I don't care what happens to some backwater city," he glowered at the sidewalk. Vlad seemed to understand the younger hybrid's sentiments. He placed a comforting hand on the boy's back. Michael jumped away, out of the man's reach. He didn't like being touched anymore.

"People will find you," Vlad said after a moment. "If I stumbled upon you by chance, others shouldn't be too far behind." He hadn't even touched his own sub yet.

Michael shrugged. "They can't find what they can't see," he replied. He held back the bitterness, but some managed to leak into his voice."I don't believe you're just here for business, Vlad. But, please, don't come here anymore. Leave me in peace. I don't need the past coming to haunt me."

Vlad and Michael ate in silence. It was something for which Michael was grateful. He hated that a reminder of who he used to be stood beside him. The silver-haired man occasionally looked at his watch. Michael assumed he had a meeting to attend soon if Vlad's excuse was genuine. The younger looked at his own watch, noting that his lunch break would be finished soon. "I have to get back to work," he mumbled. "And Vlad? Don't tell anyone you saw me."

Michael disappeared into the restaurant, leaving the billionaire on the sidewalk. He didn't turn to make sure the man had heard him, either.

He let out a breath and saw Lilly looking at him expectantly. He shrugged, making it look like it wasn't that big of a deal. She shook her head and returned to her place at the bar. Michael went back to his job, doing everything he was supposed to. The familiarity of it all helped him push away Vlad from his thoughts. He gave his job the most attention he'd given it since his first few months working.

"So, who was that old guy who followed you around before your lunch?" Ashley asked him.

It was hours after the encounter with Vlad. Michael had decided it would be a good time to take his dinner and texted Ashley. She arrived ten minutes later. They sat in a little corner in the restaurant after having taken their own orders and put them in for the cooks in the kitchen. She sat across from him, sipping at her coke. Michael sipped at his own water. He preferred that over most drinks nowadays.

He unconsciously sat up straighter in his chair and scowled out of reflex. "Friend of the family," he muttered.

She raised her eyebrows at his explanation. "Really? He looked kinda like a snake. Didn't think your family would be chummy with a guy like that."

If only she knew of what his family was capable. He suppressed a shiver. "He's definitely a snake," he agreed and then sighed. "His hotel recommended our restaurant, though." He wanted to divert the conversation away from Vlad. He hated that smug, knowing look the older hybrid had given him.

"A hotel recommended this shitty place?" Ashley looked around her with an incredulous look on her face. "You're kidding."

"It's what he said." He raised his hands for his own defense. "Apparently, we're famous." Michael shot her a little smile and leaned over the table, "But you should really watch what you say about this restaurant. Lilly would have your head if she heard you."

The blond snorted and shook her head. "I'm too good at my job," she laughed. "Besides, I could always find something else. I am planning on getting into college you know."

"This is about the thousandth time you've mentioned it this year alone," Michael teased. "You're going to major in theater education. You're going to teach the next generation of Hollywood Stars." He gestured wildly to get his point across at how ridiculous it sounded to him at that point.

Ashley glared at him, but she couldn't hold it long and instead broke into a huge grin. "Okay, okay. I've obviously drilled my dream into your head. What about you? You've never told me."

He hesitated. Once, he wanted to be an astronaut. Now, he didn't know. He never finished high school. Lilly kept telling him to at least look into the GED classes. Michael had the brochures sitting on his little kitchen table. They were still in mint condition. "I like this little restaurant," he said at last. "It's peaceful. I don't have to worry about much and pay keeps me living."

She wrinkled her cute button nose. "You're fucking kidding me," she deadpanned. "Keep that attitude and you're gonna die working here."

Michael laughed and excused himself to check on their food. It'd been twenty minutes since they ordered. This was going to be a long dinner break. The evening chefs were working fast, though, and the order was ready. He carried the food back to the shared table and resumed their conversation. "So what do you think I should do with my life?"

She placed the end of her fork to her lips in thought. He noticed she had painted her nails blue since her shift ended. "Probably teaching, like me. Maybe some type of science."

"Science was never my best subject," he said. He paused and then added, "Well, most sciences."

"Never said you had to teach 'em all," she laughed. "You like stars, right?"

"…Yeah," he had a feeling where this was going. His grin widened just a fraction.

"You could teach astronomy or something," she cut a new slice from her steak and waved her knife at him. "I bet you'd be great at it."

He shook his head. "Don't think so. I'm not the teaching type."

The girl pouted and then sighed. "You sure you don't want to teach? We'd probably make a great team teaching the stars of every variety."

The eighteen year old laughed and ate his meal. He noticed Lilly stealing a few glances at them as they continued talking. There was a smile tugging on her lips. He knew she had reason to. It had taken him a number of months to even talk to someone other than her or the practiced lines for a patron. Now he was laughing and joking about the future.

Michael liked the feeling of normalcy that he had reached. And if he kept Vlad out of his thoughts, he could pretend that nothing had changed to upset it.

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><p><strong>AN**: I wrote Danny as his assumed name as a way to show to how far he wants to be away from his past. Hope that wasn't too confusing. Bet you can all guess most of what Danny went through before he fled to Seattle. Wholes of that past will be filled, so don't fret. How were Lilly and Ashley? They weren't too bad, were they?

This is the last new story I'm posting I swear. The next thing I put up here will be the next chapter for "Patient Revelations."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Michael!Danny's memories are in anachronistic order as of this chapter.

**Disclaimer:** I still own no part of the legal things of Danny Phantom. Still writing this for no profit.

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><p><span>Everything Shatters<span>

A Fanfic by MidnightResWri

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><p><span>Chapter Two<span>

Michael had a quiet five days. He went to work, ate a few meals with Ashley, kept his mind off Vlad's visit. He hadn't had another nightmare.

He woke up on the fifth day since his past reared its ugly head paranoid. He opened his window and poked his head out, looking into the streets for any sign of a big metal RV. He looked at the building across from him, expecting an attack to force him back inside. Nothing. He turned himself to look at the sky, eyes searching for any signs of his former enemies. Nothing. Satisfied with the results, he slid back into the small apartment.

Michael made a note to clean up later that day as he stepped over a pile of dirty laundry. He'd have to get on that soon. It was starting to leave a bad odor in the room itself. His phone vibrated on the nightstand. A text message. Probably from Ashley.

He picked up the flip-phone, opened it, and first looked at the sender. To his surprise, he found a number he didn't recognize. Chills ran up his arms as he stared at the unknown number. Did he want to see this message? What if it was from Vlad? He wasn't sure if he could handle it.

"Come on Nielson," he chided himself. "It's just a message. Could be from the phone company."

His finger rested on the needed button for a moment before pressing down. The white text on black background read:

_Little Badger, I looked up your number. Sent you a text so you had mine. Call me if you need anything. -V_

Michael wanted to delete the message. The last sentence was the same as Vlad has told him a year ago. He didn't need Vlad. He was fine on his own. But his hand wouldn't allow himself to delete the message, and therefore the number. He growled and threw the device on his bed. He stalked out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

He turned on the sink, splashing the cold liquid on his face. His arms were shaking. Vlad should have just left him alone. He should have just eaten his food and left the restaurant, leaving Michael unaware of his presence forever. It would have been preferable. He hated the uncertainty he felt since that day. It had been quiet, but he'd been looking of his shoulder. Again. He had just gotten over that!

He punched the counter top. The surface froze immediately and Michael blinked. He hadn't had that happen since he first discovered his ice powers. He took a deep breath and cautiously removed his hand from the counter. Already, the ice started to melt. He would need to grab some towels from the hall closet.

He opened the door and saw a pure white room. He backed away, hitting the wall behind him and blinked rapidly. _No_, he thought, his fists clenched at his side. He tried to push those memories swimming just below the surface away. He couldn't deal with it. He sank unto the floor and shook his head, knuckles pressing into his temples.

He couldn't get away from the White Room, though. It pushed, begging for the attention. He squeezed his eyes shut and held back his panicked cries. Michael couldn't go back there. It was too painful.

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><p><em>Danny stood at one end of the room the Fenton adults dragged him to. The collar around his neck chaffed his skin and he fought down the urge to scratch it. Every time he touched it, a small voltage of electricity would be introduced into his system. If he tried to access his other half without their permission, it would shock him enough to have him writhing on the floor in agony. He didn't feel human anymore.<em>

_They hadn't told him what they would be doing to him today. Just as they hadn't done yesterday or the day before that. He let his black hair fall over one of his blue eyes. There was a ghost shield around the room, preventing his escape. He still had a gash on his arm they refused to treat from the day before. He didn't care if it got infected anymore. What's the loss of an arm, now?_

_He couldn't see where Jack and Maddie were watching him. He knew they were. They always watched him from somewhere. A voice, Maddie's, broadcast through the room, "Now Phantom, you'll be allowed access to your powers in three minutes. You will be able to maintain that access for thirty minutes. Do you understand?" Her voice held no love in it anymore. She refused to call him Danny. He was only Phantom. Just Phantom. The thing that took her son away from her._

_Danny nodded. He took deep breaths, waiting for whatever it was that would happen. He heard the whirring of the room as panels he hadn't noticed before opened to reveal guns of every variety. Ecto-guns mixed with rifles, machine guns, pistols. All of them pointed at him. Most of the floor fell away, leaving a preplanned path. Danny kept his back to the nearest wall and looked over the edge. Spikes radiating anti-ghost energy. If he fell, he'd be impaled. If he stopped, he'd be assaulted by bullets and ecto-shots. If he destroyed the equipment, he'd have something more painful done to him._

"_Begin," Maddie's voice sounded from the speakers. Danny stayed put. He always felt the cold of his ghostly self. He just wasn't sure if it was safe to reach into it. When a bullet grazed his shoulder, the boy ran. He ignored the warm liquid flowing down his arm. He latched onto his core, but didn't change into his other half. He didn't want to. He stayed on the path, willing his upper body intangible._

_He howled in pain when an ecto-blast hit his shin. A bullet pierced his foot. Blood welled out of the bullet wound, soaking his sock. He lifted the foot off the ground, unable to suppress the hiss of pain. He needed to get the sock off. More blasts and bullets whizzed by him as he struggled to take off the offending garment. Red spattered the pristine white tiles. Danny threw the sock over the edge. A steady flow of blood pooled around his remaining foot._

_Another bullet grazed his hand. More blood. They wanted him to change. He would oblige them or die the rest of the way._

_A flash of light and he was Phantom. He flew into the air, his once red injuries now green. His injured foot felt heavy as lead. His ectoplasm soaking into the boot. He could use it to keep the swelling down, though. His other injuries soaked the fabric. He went intangible as the number of attacks increased._

"_No flying!" Jack's voice boomed from the speakers. Danny's back arched as his collar gave him thousands of volts of electricity. He fell back to the path, gasping for air. Another ecto-blast met his body. He slid over to the edge, nearly falling off._

_Dizzy from pain and loss of blood and ectoplasm, Danny pulled himself back to safety. Blasts and bullets flew around him, mostly as warnings. He couldn't remember what he was doing anymore. A blast landed too close for comfort and his instincts took over. He raised a shield around him. It flickered in and out of existence. He couldn't concentrate. The shield failed and he pulled himself into a fetal position. Anything to make himself smaller. He could feel the burns from the ecto-blasts rubbing against his suit, making them worse._

_He just wanted it to stop._

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><p>Michael tried to breathe as the memory began to fade. His chest felt tight. He felt a soft hand on his shoulder and he whipped his body away from it, crying out in his panic. His eyes danced around the hall, looking at guns that would hurt him. He could still hear the gunshots and blasts. His eyes finally found blue ones of a startled girl. He couldn't breathe. He needed air. He grabbed his throat, trying to make it work. To pull in the air. If he could breathe, things would be better. Safe.<p>

He backed himself down the hall until he found a corner. There, he curled himself into a ball.

"Mike?" asked a worried voice. He knew that voice. It sounded safe. He latched onto that voice. "Mike, it's me Ashley." She was hesitant, as if afraid he would lash out at her again. "Lilly said she heard a crash."

The names he recognized. They didn't have the hurt associated with it. He struggled to assign the proper faces to those names. Ones that weren't staring at him in pity or hatred. He forced himself to relax his chest. The air freely flowing down his windpipe and into his lungs. Breathing would help him calm down. Or so said a little voice he thought he didn't need anymore. He now felt how tense his body was and he slowly unwrapped himself, still focusing more on his breathing than anything else. He could still hear the blasting of the ecto-guns. He didn't object when Ashley helped his shaking body sit up, though his body tensed when she touched him. "Mike," said the girl, "look at me." He wanted to look everywhere but at her. "Look. At. Me."

His glazed eyes looked at her, but he didn't yet see her. She was a blur coming into focus as the White Room faded. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but closed it immediately. Silence was golden. An old rule from school. He slowly blinked the memory away, but it was far from gone. Ashley came into view. Her hair falling over her shoulders as she leaned over to cup his hands into his face, forcing him to look at her despite his objections. He wanted to pull away. "Mike. What happened?"

"I…" he tried to think of something. He was getting drunk on air. After a long moment, he settled on: "Bad dream."

She eyed him skeptically and then shrugged. "Liar." Ashley sat beside him, her knees raised enough for her to stretch her arms over them. He lowered his head, still reburying that memory. He didn't want her to see his lingering fear. He couldn't tell her the truth. That would be letting those painful memories back in. "Looked like a panic attack, to me…Didn't know you got those."

Michael didn't say anything. The girl beside him squirmed a little from his silent treatment. "This is the first time I've actually been up here," she told him and looked around her. "Kinda small." A small string of curses drifted from the kitchen. "Lilly's in the kitchen, mopping up some water."

He knew she was trying to distract him from whatever had triggered the panic attack. His eyes swept around the small hallway. He saw the source of the noise that brought them up the stairs: his small end table that had been the place for his keys and wallet after coming in for the night had been thrown into the living/dining room. His small television had one of its legs embedded in the screen. He wondered when that had happened.

Michael groaned. "This wasn't supposed to happen." He wasn't sure what he meant by that.

"Hey, my mom gets those things sometimes," the girl explained. "Shit happens."

The hybrid closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. He felt exhausted. "Thanks," he said, "for being here."

The girl snorted and shrugged her shoulders. "I bet you would've done the same for me."

Michael felt a small smile tug on his lips, though he knew it wouldn't reach his eyes. He didn't know if he would have helped anymore. He just shrugged. "Anyone with a heart, would."

Lilly entered the hallway, looking at the two teenagers. Her eyes first found Ashley, then Michael. "Thank God, you're okay," she sighed, walking over to him. Stepping over the teens' legs, she came to Michael's other side. She crouched down to his level and touched his face with the tips of her fingers. He flinched away from her touch. "You were doing so well."

"I know," he muttered. "I'm sorry."

The woman clucked her tongue, giving him a soft smile. "It's not your fault," she told him. Her eyes flicked over to Ashley and added, "You've just been through a lot."

Michael wanted to agree with her. He just let his head fall again, chin resting on his chest. It was his fault. He was a freak. He waited too long. He let his naivety blind him. But he couldn't tell Lilly or Ashley that. They wouldn't understand.

"Ashley, will you be a dear and check on how Rob's doing downstairs?" asked Lilly.

The girl, unsure of whether it would be safe for her to move away from Michael. A stern look from Lilly caused her to flinch and she slowly stood up. Ashley sent Michael a few more wary looks, as if he was something fragile. To be handled with care. He didn't return her glances, focusing on the woman before him. The two heard the apartment door open and close. Both of them believed they were alone.

"Whatever triggered this, it wasn't your fault," Lilly told him. "Do you understand Michael?"

He nodded. He felt too tired to feel guilty for the past. Too tired to feel anything. She wrapped her arms around him, ignoring his attempts to get away from her. She shushed him and pet his head, smoothing down his hair. "You'll be fine, Michael. You'll be fine." She held him for five minutes after he stopped fighting her embrace. They didn't say a word to each other during that time. Lilly broke the silence. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "Nothing to talk about, Lil'." He shivered, though he knew it wasn't from the memory or the room temperature. He exhaled a breath and saw a puff of mist leave his mouth. He noticed Lilly had seen it, too. She frowned as she compared their body temperatures. Her eyes widened when she touched his skin.

"You're freezing," she gasped. "Let's get you in bed. Warm you up." She helped him stand. Michael swayed on his feet, dreading what could happen in the next few minutes. He hoped the ghost would just be passing through and leave him alone. Lilly walked behind him as they took the few steps to the bedroom. He tried to refrain from rubbing his freezing arms. It had been a while since any ghost had come near enough to set off his sense.

He pushed open the door and walked over to his bed. Lilly sighed in distaste for the disarray of the room, but held her tongue. She watched him get under the covers and turn his back to her. Then she left the room, telling him she was going back downstairs to grab some hot tea for him. He nodded and waited for her to close the door.

Crawling back out of the bed, Michael reached into his core, pulling out his other half. He didn't want a fight, but he definitely wasn't about to be caught off guard if the ghost did indeed attack him. He stayed on the bed, waiting.

Thirty seconds. Michael pulled his legs to his chest.

One minute. His muscles tensed.

Two minutes. He looked out the window, seeing a missile flying towards the window. Reacting instantly, Michael shot his hand to the window, causing it to turn intangible. He couldn't risk the damage. He fired a small ecto-ray through the window, causing the weapon to explode prematurely. Michael knew one ghost that used weapons like that. And he was currently flying to the apartment, an insane smile on his mechanical suit.

He let go of the window, returning it to real world physics. Normal physics. He phased through the wall and sped off to the left, hoping to draw the hunter away from his building. He looked behind him, seeing that it worked. Michael had given Skulker enough time to turn his bulky metal body around to follow him. Michael wanted to just disappear, though the ghost had probably upgraded his suit more times than the hybrid could count. He didn't want to know every new feature Skulker had.

Michael angled his body, gaining altitude as he increased his speed. He could handle a ghost. This was familiar. Almost safe. Once he thought he had enough height, he eased himself into a stop. A few seconds later, and the hunter hovered a few feet from him. The sunlight reflected off the armor, causing Michael to squint in attempt to dispel the glare. "I knew I'd find you eventually, whelp."

The boy closed his eyes, pushing out the imagined voices of Jack and Maddie. "We don't have to do this," he said. "You can just go back to your lair. Chase after something else."

"You are the ultimate prey, ghost child," Skulker raised an arm, a small gun emerging from a panel. "If I stop hunting you, then I will be no better than the Box Ghost."

Michael almost smiled at the mention of the Box Ghost. "Please, Skulker," he said, "can't I just have a few years in peace?" His eyes were fixed on the exposed weapon.

Skulker frowned at his words. The hybrid figured the ghost would not have expected that. An ecto-ray, sure. Not a plea. Not from him. The hunter hesitated for only a second before releasing three missiles at his prey. Michael raised a shield at the last moment, focused on the missiles and fighting back his panic. He would need to drive the hunter away. And soon.

The force of the explosion could be seen by the speed of the smoke and debris flying around his shield. They were too high up for the sound to attract too much attention from street level, but Michael thought those who lived higher would have no problem noticing a fight between ghosts. Michael kept his distance from the hunter, going through his mental catalog of powers. He couldn't use the Wail without attracting unwanted attention. He could always use his ecto-rays, maybe his ice powers. Telekinesis might work, but that was still fairly weak compared to the others.

The hunter ghost released a glowing green blade. Michael's eyes widened and sent an ecto-ray out of reflex. The hunter's arm snapped back, the metal cracking from the force of the blast. The knife was broken off, falling into the city below. Michael figured it would land on a rooftop. Or hurt an innocent person. A shiver passed through his body at the thought. He couldn't worry about the knife and the people below. He couldn't risk being seen.

Skulker sent a net towards him as his next move. Michael watched it come, panic flooding through his system. He forced himself back, though the net still found him. The net closed around him, forcing the hybrid into a ball. He struggled against the trap, his fear driving him into survival mode. He bit the bindings, kicked at the netting and, by sheer luck of being in his ghost form, fired ecto-rays by pure instinct. Nothing worked as he was dragged toward the metallic specter.

The ghost faded into a large man in orange spandex, a hard glare frozen on his face. "_You're not escaping,"_ the voice echoed in the back his mind. Michael dug his gloved fingertips into his white hair. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on breathing. He realized a moment later that breathing wouldn't help. He was technically dead at the moment. He curled in on himself tighter. _"You filthy piece of ectoplasmic trash."_

Michael begged. The words asking for mercy spilling out of his mouth as he had so many times before. He wanted it to stop. The voices never left him alone. His ramblings mixed with sobs that racked his body. He pulled at his hair, the roots straining to remain in his scalp while he wanted to tear them out in his desperation. "Make it stop," he chanted, starting with a frantic whisper and building up to a yell.

He hadn't realized he started building power behind his words before it was too late. On his final repetition of his mantra, he let out a Ghostly Wail at his trapper. The raw power disintegrated the mesh surrounding him and forced the ghost away, peeling the armor back in sections until all that remained was the small green blob. The ghost howled in it's high voice as it was thrown away from the still Wailing boy.

When it finally died down, Michael remained in the sky, staring at the rooftops below him. He would have been breathing hard had he been human. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, realizing what just happened. He'd used a flashy power. The damage was done and his hiding place would be found out. The hybrid stayed where he was for a moment longer, training his ears down towards the city. His Wail had done exactly the right amount of damage to be noticed. Car alarms blared, people were yelling, sirens screamed through the streets. A few buildings around him had lost their windows. So many people would be hurt or killed. His Wail must have gotten some people killed. Great.

Michael turned himself invisible and sped back towards his apartment. Damn Vlad. Damn Skulker. Damn memories. Damn ghost powers.

He looked around his bedroom, making sure Lilly wasn't waiting for him, before changing back into his human half. He sat against the wall, his eyes catching sight of a cup of tea, still steaming. There was a note beneath the cup. His hands shook as he picked up the cup and read the note.

_Michael,_

_You weren't in the apartment. I figure you must have gone out the back way for some air._

_I left the tea for whenever you come back. If it's cold, you can always heat it up._

_I'm also giving you the next two days off work to recover._

_Lilly_

_P.S. Ashley said she's going to stop by to make you dinner around six. Rest well._

He set the note aside and sipped at his drink. It actually did calm him down a little bit. Though he wondered why Ashley wanted to make him dinner. She'd been the closest thing to a friend he made in the past year. She did seem worried about him, too. He stared into the half-empty cup. How much longer could he continue being Michael?

It wasn't like his stay in Seattle would last much longer, he thought. Not if _they_ came after hearing the news of the strange attack. He shuddered from the thought of going back and rubbed his throat. He almost expected to feel the collar again.

"Fuck this," he whispered and downed the rest of the drink. If they came, he'd run. Until then, he'd stay put and live his life.

Michael got off the bed and entered the kitchen. All the water from his slip in control had been cleaned up. He'd have to thank Lilly for that later. He placed the cup in the sink, filling it with some water before going over to the fridge. He pulled out leftovers from dinner the night before and popped it in the microwave. His eyes slid over to the mess in his living room. The glass from the screen still littered the floor. The end table had been removed from the television, though. He'd have to thank Lilly for that one, too.

With a sigh, Michael closed his eyes. He hoped his encounter with Skulker wouldn't make the news. He hoped the city would just move on with their lives and make up some bullshit story. Anything would be easier to swallow than ghosts fighting in their airspace. The hybrid scowled and ran a hand over his face. Things had only gotten worse since Vlad "stumbled" on him. His instincts told him there were worse days ahead.

"Fuck."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** ...I've never had a panic attack so I really don't know what it feels like. If I portrayed it incorrectly, would you be kind enough to tell me? I'd also appreciate any feedback, to be honest. Thank you very much for reading this chapter. And don't worry, we haven't gotten to the worst of his memories yet.


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